The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes (34 page)

Lenny kissed Grace. He whispered something in her ear and she smiled at him. He put his arm around her and the disappointment cleared from her face. Jack returned with Molly in tow. Her eyes were red-rimmed but she wasn’t crying.

‘Are you OK, Ma?’ Rabbit asked.

‘I’m fine, love,’ Molly said.

‘You’re not going to lose Juliet.’

‘I know.’ Molly’s eyes welled again. ‘What else do you want to talk about?’

‘My funeral.’

Jack had been very strong up to that point, but suddenly he was overwhelmed. He buried his face in his hands. ‘Ah, Rabbit.’

‘I’m sorry, Da,’ she said.

‘Go ahead, Rabbit,’ Grace said, and Rabbit was glad her sister was coming around.

‘No church. Do you hear me, Ma?’

‘So what, then?’ Molly asked.

‘There are plenty of funeral homes that cater for the nonreligious. Grace, pick a nice one with a big room.’ Grace nodded. ‘It doesn’t have to be a big funeral. All I ask is that you speak honestly, you laugh, tell stories and remember me well.’

She was emotional but not as emotional as her poor father, who burst into loud sobs, causing Molly to shout, ‘Would you ever stop fucking cryin’ in her face, Jack!’

Grace, Davey, Lenny and Marjorie laughed, but Rabbit was past that. She needed to keep going: the pain was resurfacing and soon she’d need her meds; every dose was getting stronger and she felt herself growing weaker.

‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ Jack said, and left the room.

‘Go on, Rabbit,’ Grace said.

‘No priests, no prayers. Do you hear me, Ma?’

Molly mumbled something under her breath.

‘Grace, you’ll make sure, won’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t want an open coffin – they freak me out – and I want to be cremated and, honestly, I don’t care what you do with the ash.’

‘What do you want to wear?’ Grace asked.

‘You pick, Ma.’

‘Oh, great! I get to pick the outfit you’ll wear in a closed coffin before being burned.’

The others chuckled, but Rabbit held her gaze. ‘Forgive me, Ma. I’m sorry I don’t believe what you believe.’

‘Of course I forgive you, ya big eejit,’ Molly said.

‘No egg sandwiches at the reception.’

‘Why no eggs?’ Marjorie was trying to hide the fact that she was crying more than poor old Jack.

‘Me ma hates eggs.’

‘Fucking smell of them.’ Molly was trying to keep it together.

‘Davey, you’ll pick the music. You know what I like.’

Davey nodded. He couldn’t speak.

‘That’s it,’ she said.

‘OK.’ Grace passed Lenny a tissue in a bid to stop him sniffling and wiping his running nose with his hand.

‘Any questions?’ Rabbit asked.

‘Just one,’ Grace said. ‘Do you know anyone who wants to buy a caravan?’

Rabbit smiled. Grace had forgiven her for picking Davey over her and she was grateful. ‘Thank you.’

Grace stood up and hugged her sister. ‘Love you, Rabbit.’

‘Love you, Grace.’

When Jack returned, everyone in the room got their turn to hug her and tell her how much they cared. Marjorie was the first and Molly was the last. Rabbit couldn’t fight off the pain any more. She pressed her buzzer to call in Linda. As her family were leaving she called Davey back. The others gave them their moment alone.

‘Davey,’ Rabbit said, finally breaking down, ‘you’re going to make mistakes and I don’t care about any of that as long as you make her feel loved. That’s all anyone needs.’

‘I’ll love her more than anyone else alive.’

Rabbit and her brother cried together in each other’s arms until Linda interrupted with her meds. ‘I can come back.’

‘No,’ Rabbit said. ‘It’s time.’

As Rabbit’s family left the hospice with heavy hearts, Rabbit waited for sleep to come.

Rabbit woke up in Johnny’s arms for the second day in a row. They spent most of their time in Wicklow making love, talking, laughing, kissing, caressing. It was almost normal except for when Johnny’s dodgy bladder didn’t allow him enough time to make it to the bathroom so he was forced to pee out of the second-floor window.

‘It’s hardly romantic,’ he said, when she pushed him to do it.

‘Just make sure you don’t hit anyone on the head – and who cares about romance?’

‘I love you, Rabbit,’ he said, while taking a piss.

Before he could turn around she was jumping up and down on the bed. ‘Whoo-hoo – at last!’ Rabbit could always make Johnny smile, even when he was harbouring the darkest thoughts.

They lay entwined for a while.

‘You’re mulling,’ she said.

‘Not.’

‘Are.’

‘Not.’

‘Are.’

‘All right, I’m mulling.’

‘Don’t ruin this, OK?’ she warned.

‘I won’t. Not today at least.’

She knew he was already working out how to pull away. She’d deal with it again. She kissed him, he kissed her back, they made love one last time, then were forced to pack up and go.

He was tired in the car. Rabbit was happy to drive: she was on cloud nine and felt she could do anything. They listened to the radio and talked until he fell asleep. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she read the signs and was making good headway until she took a wrong turn and ended up on the mountain.

It was pitch black and it took her a while to work out how to work the lights, but she found the switch eventually. They were alone on a dark, narrow road and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. They should have left earlier but, even driving in darkness, she was glad they hadn’t. She heard the tyre burst before she felt it. She braked hard and drove onto the grass verge before coming to a stop.

Johnny woke with a start. ‘What happened?’

‘Something wrong with a wheel.’

‘Where the hell are we?’

‘Ah . . .’

He was weak: the weekend’s activities had taken it out of him. He leaned heavily on his cane and examined the wheel as best he could in the dark, with his bad eyesight. ‘We’ll need to change it,’ he said, but they both knew that by ‘we’ he meant Rabbit, because his legs were shaking and a minute later he was lying on the grass in spasm, trying to direct her from there. She didn’t know what she was looking for and, anyway, she couldn’t see past her own nose.

‘Are you crying?’ he asked, from the ground.

‘Nope,’ she lied. Of course she was crying: Johnny was paralysed, she was clueless and they were both going to freeze to death. He tried to get up but he was as helpless as an upturned turtle. The spasm was severe and she knew it could be a long time before it passed. Even then he’d be so weak she’d have to lift him into the car. If someone didn’t stop soon, they were in trouble, and Rabbit hadn’t seen anyone on the road in at least an hour. She heard him praying.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Her face was buried in the boot, looking for a part that seemed to be missing from the car jack. There was still no one else on the road and Rabbit panicked until she felt Johnny behind her.

‘I can do it,’ he said. ‘I feel better.’ All of a sudden he was steady and strong. He was his old self. The spasm was over and the residual twitches were gone. He located the missing part from the car jack and changed the wheel in a jiffy with ridiculous ease. She pinched herself as he worked.
It’s not possible
. She stared at him in the dark, drinking him in. All the strength that had drained out of him over months and years had returned in an unexpected surge
. It doesn’t make sense
. When he was done and the jack had been returned to the boot, they got back into the car.

‘Great job,’ Rabbit said.

‘Thanks.’

‘You couldn’t move ten minutes ago.’

‘I know.’

‘And then suddenly you were perfect like there was nothing wrong.’
Absolutely perfect. No MS. It was gone
.

‘Mad.’ His hands were starting to shake again. He crossed his arms and hugged himself. It was back.
Damn it.

Rabbit turned on the engine and they drove for a while in silence.

‘You know what just happened there, don’t you?’ Johnny said.

‘Don’t start,’ Rabbit told him.

‘It was a minor miracle.’

‘I told you not to start.’

‘Well, how else do you explain it?’

‘I don’t know. Sometimes you’re better than others. Maybe it was spontaneous remission.’

‘I was really strong, stronger than I’ve ever been. I could have lifted the car without the jack. That was a miracle.’

‘Whatever.’

‘God is good.’

That pissed her off. ‘Really, Johnny! If God’s so good why does He fix you for five minutes and not for life?’

Johnny said nothing, even after she mumbled an apology. Just as they passed back through the Dublin border he turned to her. ‘I believe in eternal love, Rabbit. I believe we’ll see each other again when I’m well and when this can be right.’

‘It’s right now.’

‘Don’t you even hope for that?’ He was asking her to throw him a bone and she wished she could just say yes, but she wasn’t going to lie to him. Anyway, he knew her better than that.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’ He sounded so sad. It was not the conversation she wanted to end the weekend on. It meant too much to him and too little to her. She tried to change the subject but he refused to comply.

‘Answer me.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Please.’

‘You can’t make me believe in a fairyland in the sky just because you do. It doesn’t work that way.’

‘So I walk with God and you walk alone, is that what you’re saying?’

‘And what’s the real difference between us? We’re still here on the same street. Does it matter?’

‘I experienced a miracle tonight. That’s the difference.’

Rabbit’s heart felt heavy in her chest. She knew deep down this conversation was more than just talk. Johnny was silent. She wasn’t sure if he was crying – it was dark and her tired eyes were on the never-ending road – but it was possible.

‘I look forward to moving on, and you happily accept the end. I believe in life and love eternal, and you believe that this is it.’ He hit his legs with his hands, partly out of frustration and partly to make his point. ‘I don’t want to spend eternity waiting for the girl who never shows up.’

‘Oh, I’ll show up, if you’re right and I’m wrong.’

‘It doesn’t work like that.’

‘How the fuck do you know?’

‘Heaven is for believers.’

‘Oh, right, Peter at the gates.’

‘Exactly.’

‘And has there ever been a doorman I couldn’t get by?’

She heard him chuckle. ‘No.’

‘That’s right.’

‘So in my head we’ll live in a fairyland happily ever after.’ His sarcasm was evident, but so were his lifted spirits. ‘And in your head these moments right here and now will last for ever.’

‘Couldn’t have put it better myself but, then, you’re the poet.’

‘I suppose I can live with that, but I’ll tell you something. Francie was right: you do suck the magic out of everything.’

Even in the dark she sensed he was grinning. He had forgiven her and she was grateful.

NO ONE EVER
accepted who and what Marjorie was quite like Rabbit did. After too many glasses of wine, Rabbit had once predicted Marjorie would have an affair. Of course, even Rabbit couldn’t have predicted that it would be with Davey. She didn’t relish the drama and gossip potential in it, she didn’t wish it for her, but in her heart she knew it was the only way that Marjorie could leave an empty marriage. Marjorie wanted to argue but she didn’t, and it wasn’t because she was planning to be unfaithful or had even dreamed of it: it was because Rabbit knew her better than she knew herself. ‘Maybe Neil will do it first,’ she said, and they changed the subject.

He didn’t do it first, or if he did, he didn’t get caught. Four years after Rabbit had made that comment, Marjorie’s husband found an explicit note from Davey while rooting through her bag for the spare car keys. He waited for her to come downstairs, and five minutes into the conversation that followed, their marriage was over.

Terminating a bad marriage should be a relief, but when Marjorie’s whole world was crashing down, it felt like the end of the world. She was under massive, unrelenting pressure at work: the bank was in a crisis of its own that dwarfed her petty marital woes. Neil acted as his friends and family had suggested: he packed her bags, left them on the lawn and changed the locks. Her solicitor was adamant he had behaved illegally and she had a case to be allowed back home, but he had moved his friend Tom, a casualty of the property game, into their spare room.

Her husband had nothing but contempt for her and Tom had a great reason to make her life a living hell. She was outmanoeuvred and outnumbered, so she let it go. She was also suffering from scarlet-woman fever. Friends and family were quick to judge, and why wouldn’t they? Neil was a great guy and didn’t deserve to be cheated on. They were right. Her mother seemed to like Neil better than she had ever liked her daughter. She was particularly vicious. ‘His mother said to me on the day of your wedding that he was too good for you, and I’m sorry to say she was right. You’d want to get on your knees and pray for the Lord’s forgiveness because if you don’t you’ll burn in Hell for this.’ Marjorie left her mother’s house in tears for neither the first nor the last time. Her mother could be hateful and spiteful, and Marjorie could never work out if it was because she was unhappy or she was born that way.

Whenever things got really bad in adulthood, Marjorie turned up on Molly’s doorstep, as she had in childhood. That day, when Marjorie was at her lowest, Molly made tea and pulled out a cake. She sat her down at the kitchen table and listened to Marjorie’s trauma with compassion and empathy, then offered her a suggestion for decisive action.

‘We all make mistakes, love, and he was always wrong for you, but I’m sorry it ended the way it did,’ she said gently. ‘I’ll batter Davey when I see him.’ Suddenly she was angry: ‘I mean, who the fuck writes notes, these days?’

Marjorie laughed. Molly could always make her laugh; sometimes Marjorie wondered if she feigned her over-the-top, theatrical fury just to make people smile, but whether she did or not, she was grateful.